The more I open up about my condition, the less shame I feel about it. I don’t feel as much like something is wrong with me, I just made some horrid decisions when it came to coping with an extremely difficult time in my adult life. Unfortunately, those decisions lead to a potentially fatal addiction.
When I lived in Denver, a Buddhist leader whose name escapes me explained that my automatic assumption that people are doing the best they can with what they have is what keeps me on the side of kindheartedness and impartiality. It’s why I am so quick to forgive others who hurt me. But she also said it is equally important to do the same for myself. I recall a time when I could do that, though getting to that point took years of therapy. It’s a daunting thought to have to relearn, considering I am 45 now. I also know that our minds are as powerful as they can be volatile. What it learned previously, it can pick back up fairly quickly, given the right conditions.
Come to think of it, Brené Brown said the same thing. In her book, Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution., she wrote “All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgement and lets me focus on what is, and not what should or could be.” Ironically, I picked that book up around the time I got my 18 month keyring back in 2015.
Taking this into the context of early recovery, I feel it’s crucial to remind myself that, though my best ideas and actions got me to where I am, I truly was doing my best at the time. Sometimes my best is sitting in a holding pattern, no matter how stagnant or destructive it might be, because I’d rather avoid asking for help directly. Sometimes my best is nearly burning my house (and bridges) down, then having my Jonah spat out onto the sandy beaches of a 12 step meeting by the whale of said avoidance.
The more I open up about my condition, the more I am able to open my mind to hearing how others are are doing the best they can with the same condition. The more I listen, the more I learn that I’m not as terminally unique as I thought. Sure, I’ve been through a lot of unspeakable things. I, too, have put myself through the ringer. But so have so many others. That doesn’t diminish what I’ve been through, it merely means I am not alone in my struggle. To be honest, that knowledge is the main thing keeping me clean right now. That I always have someone to talk to who gets it, and I will never be truly alone in my recovery.
